


White Ridge Academy

by Moon_Jigsaw



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Boarding School, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, England (Country), Eventual Romance, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Romance, School, Slow Romance, Teen Romance, Teen Years, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Jigsaw/pseuds/Moon_Jigsaw
Summary: Martha Stevens, has never left her hometown.  Then she is offered the opportunity of a lifetime when she wins one of two scholarships to the prestigious White Ridge Academy in Cornwall.At MerryFord, her old school, she was very much her only friend. She is hopeful for a new start when she wins one of the scholarships, however her life gets even worse, when she finds out that her long-time school bully Dean Matthews, has won the other.What she doesn't know, is that the school and the island  hold many secrets that could change her life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

"Shit", Martha Stevens murmured to herself over and over again as she practically smashed her alarm clock, until the loud beeping noise stopped. She ran around her messy room, narrowly avoiding knocking over the precarious stack of past papers, high-lighters and past papers that covered her tiny oak desk.

She was going to be late on the most important day of school in her life. The day that would define her next few years of education and ultimately her future.  
She snatched the semi creased school shirt that was sat half scrunched on top of a humungous pile of half clean clothes.  
Whilst attempting to brush her teeth and put on her last pair of reasonably clean black school trousers, toothpaste slowly dribbled out of her mouth onto the paint splattered cream carpet below. She'd just clean that up later, she didn't have time to worry about floor toothpaste right now.

Martha had to concentrate on getting to school and sitting the final exam for the chance to win one of two scholarships to one of the most prestigious sixth forms in the country.

White Ridge Academy.  
White Ridge Academy stood atop a cliff, in the deep south of Cornwall, overlooking a small harbourside village filled with tiny unique houses that covered the rocky landscape, with hundreds of little fishing boats bobbing up and down.

As Martha desperately dragged a hairbrush through her coppery tresses, she heard her mother hurriedly call from downstairs,  
"Martha, hurry up, you’re going to be late!"

She took one last desperate look at herself in the cracked elm mirror that stood between her desk and bed. She winced slightly in response to her reflection, but this would have to do. Martha hurried back over to her desk, grabbing her battered leather school satchel which was covered in scratches and various stickers and badges from her years at Merry Ford, from the back of her maroon desk chair.

As she ran down cream carpeted spiral stairs, her hair flying everywhere whilst clutching her satchel, she adjusted her threadbare striped tie that hung loosely around her neck.  
Her mother, looked up at her and gave her a reassuring but slightly worried smile as she was wrist-deep in suds washing the crockery from breakfast.  
"You should really have some you something to eat, you know", she said whilst scrubbing a plate covered in leftover scrambled eggs and ketchup, that undoubtedly belonged to her younger sister Lucy.

Lucy was only seven but had very strong opinions of what she ate and wore. She mainly wore, pink, stripes and articles of clothing that had flowers or cats embroidered on them.  
Last Christmas Martha had managed to obtain a pink woollen striped scarf and had spent most of December carefully embroidering it with calico cats and chrysanthemums, Lucy's favourites.  
Walking across the kitchen, Martha opened up the dented brown bread bin, grabbed a slice of white bread and shoved it rather abruptly into the toaster. Then slid across the turquoise tiled laminate floor towards the fridge that was covered in miscellaneous magnets and various school certificates. She opened the door, grabbed the tub of butter and the carton of apple juice.

"So, today's the day" Martha's mother, Georgie said as she craned her head to look at her daughter, who was now stood up next to the fridge furiously munching her heavily buttered piece of toast in between huge gulps of apple juice.

"I guess", she half mumbled as her mouth was full of toast. Although Martha, had tried to pretend she didn't care, pretty much everyone who knew her knew she really did. She'd been revising profusely for months, doing any practice questions and past papers she could find, silently determined to achieve one of the scholarships offered by White Ridge.

She strode over to the oak dining chair that housed her nearly threadbare navy school jumper, grabbed it rather vigorously and desperately pulled it over her head pushing her hair out the way as she did so.  
Martha, delicately jiggled the slightly rusty brass door latch mechanism, it required a very specific knack to open, which the family had become accustomed to over the years.

It has always been Martha, Lucy and their mother, there was no question that the three were related; they all had the same small almond shaped forest green eyes that sparkled with flecks of hazel. The ski slope shaped nose, dusted with golden freckles with a barely noticeable bump in the centre, which they all shared a tiny amount of discomfort about. The same crazy coppery tresses that sprang wildly from their scalp, which were only partially tameable with a hairbrush.  
"Martha" her mother said softly as she was halfway out the door. The young girl rapidly turned her head in the direction of her patient mother, who was stood next to the tea and paint stained dining table.

"You'll be fine today, I promise" she spoke, ushering her hurried daughter into one last reassuringly tight hug.

"Thanks mum" she replied, with a small smile appearing on her lips as she did so.

And with that, she quickly reopened the front door and ran out into the rain filled cul-de-sac. Luckily the Stevens lived relatively close to Merry Ford, and over the years Martha had become a master of completing the journey in record time.  
As she ran along the windy mazes of housing estates that seemingly never ended, she desperately pulled wet hairs off of her face, that had gotten stuck due to the rain falling from the sky that was getting heavier and colder every second.  
She ran along the maze of puddle ridden streets and cul-de-sacs, desperately trying to avoid soaking her holey black brogues.  
After five minutes of frantic flailing, swerving around parked cars, moving cars, pedestrians and the odd postman she had finally arrived at school, mere minutes before the exam was due to start. 

She gave herself once last desperate look in the rain splattered windows in the reception area of Merry Ford school. She straightened her semi soggy tie and pushed the soaked strands of hair behind her ears in an attempt to look somewhat prepared for what lay ahead in the coming minutes.  
As she cautiously walked towards the hall that housed the exam, she was greeted by an elderly woman waddling towards her, who no doubt was one the many examiners that the school had hired from the local area. Her white hair was delicately pinned into a low bun, her lips stained a deep red. She wore a purple woven bolero style cardigan that was covered in lavender flowers.

Merry Ford had a reputation for taking the slightly cheaper route, and it was clearly reflected in many choices the faculty had made over the years Martha had attended the school.  
Instead of buying new up to date textbooks for students, most copies in the school were extremely battered and covered in years of student graffiti and tape. Most of the pages were yellowed, had creased and folded corners and had a slightly insufferable musty smell when opened. The languages department had a string of measly faded threadbare flags that hung in the far corner of the classroom, which failed miserably in an attempt to motivate the students. 

In fact, the school hadn't seen any major construction or remodelling since the mid 1980's when it was first built, the only reminder that showed any sign of the school still being operational was through the students themselves. The photos that hung in hundreds of cracked ebony frames in the reception area, were filled with perms and shoulder pads, and Martha was almost entirely sure that most of the students pictured were now parents themselves. 

As her brain transmitted about a thousand thoughts a second, she managed to regain her sense of self, she inhaled deeply and let out a large wavering breath, her lower lip, still pink from the chill outside quivering slightly as she did so.

The elderly woman looked blankly at Martha,  
"Name?" she murmured in an extremely raspy breath.

In her brief daydream, Martha had totally forgotten she was just about to take an exam.  
"Ummm... Martha, Martha Stevens" she managed to awkwardly gasp out.

"Hmmmmmmm". 

In response the woman scrunched her lips together slightly, creating a plethora of wrinkles residing on her forehead, she lightly tapped a pen, slowly along a spreadsheet that contained the names of all the students taking the exam.  
She gazed at the slightly bedraggled young lady that stood before her. 

"You're only just on time, Miss Stevens" she managed to say, whilst breathing heavily between each word, complete with a few wheezes.

"Sorry", she mumbled.

She handed Martha a small scrunched slip of paper allocating her seat on the school hall, she glanced down at the paper which read, G7; she silently padded into the hall, delicately placing her satchel, in an unstable pile of coats and backpacks of fellow students.  
She walked behind the rows of desks until she found her own, she pulled the purple plastic chair out, and it scraped rather loudly on the faded teal and orange checkerboard lino flooring, making her the recipient of quite a few angry looks.

Martha hastily plonked herself onto the chair, adjusted it slightly, wincing at the scraping noise it made against the ground. She desperately tried to ignore the inevitable stares that came from around her.  
For the first time today, Martha wished that time would go faster, so everyone’s attention would shift from her antics, to their papers.  
As if her silent wishes came true, a marginally disgruntled elderly fellow with a bushy snowy beard who was stood at the front of the hall, suddenly spoke up, to signal the start of the exam.

"Good Morning students, please make sure that your phones are turned off and, in your bags,, and you all have the correct equipment for the exam, please raise your hand if you need anything before the exam starts and one of the examiners will be happy to help."

Not a soul in the hall raised their hand, much to Martha's delight and partially due to the fact that none of them would want to spend any more time in the school than they had to. 

"You may turn your papers over and begin the exam, you have an hour and a half to complete it", the man at the front spoke. The coherent sound of rustling paper echoed throughout the room.

Just over an hour and a half later the students silently filed out the hall, collecting their belongings as they did so. The time had passed rather quickly and Martha had managed to answer nearly every question. But there was always that small molecule of guilt that sat rather feverishly in the back of her head. It had the tendency to mock her, knock her down when she already felt low. Although she had studied relentlessly for months for this exact moment, an aura of worry still surrounded her.  
She gently pushed open the doors that led the school corridors and took a deep breath as she did so, in an attempt to expel all her worry into individual segments that could be distributed out to all the other students. Her satchel swung from her side as her pace quickened, to escape the seemingly shrinking walls that surrounded her.

Fortunately for Martha, Merry Ford wasn't a very large school and was very easy to navigate and even easier to escape, although many students over the years had just left whenever they wanted throughout the day with little to no punishment. The teachers were impressed if students even attended their lessons, let alone completed homework, or projects. It was clear that the school did not enforce any kind of rules upon those who chose not to attend, it seemed merely the student’s choice themselves if they decided to receive an education. 

Martha herself had never skipped a single class at Merry Ford, she was one of the only students, maybe the only student in her whole year that had never been absent. She had just never seen the need to skip class, in her eyes it didn't achieve anything and, in truth she didn't really have any friends that she'd want to skip class with.  
The only close family she had were her mother, Lucy and her cousin Floyd, who lived down in the county of Devon, where he was surrounded by lush fields and livestock, when he wasn't at school. Luckily, for her Floyd was a student at White Ridge Academy, so at least she'd have one guaranteed friend if she managed to earn a scholarship, and her next few years of education and life would be significantly happier, where she would be far away from almost everyone in the town of Merry Ford. Well, almost everyone, except for the other lucky student would who receive the second scholarship.

But there was a certain person, who Martha was determined to avoid, Dean Matthews. Like most families in the area, the Stevens and the Matthews had lived in the same house for generations, conveniently the Matthews lived just down the street from the Stevens. So, Martha and Dean were rather familiar with one another and had been pretty much their entire lives. Their families had become firm friends over the years, and often spent evenings together in the summertime. Dean was a rather tall boy, with chestnut curls that fell about his face, mossy green eyes that lit up his face and a petite upturned nose decorated with hundreds of freckles.  
They had played tag, ridden bikes and been over to each other’s houses more times than they could count. In their younger years, they had been great friends, at points best friends, however all of that soon changed when they both started at Merry Ford. On their first day at their new school, they had walked in, wearing shirts and jumpers that swamped their small pre-pubescent bodies, complete with poorly knotted wonky striped ties around their necks.  
Martha was under the impression that the two of them would be close friends, most of their lives, even if one of them moved away or left for university. However, on the first day at Merry Ford, a new personality arose in Dean, when he met his now close-knit group of friends that prayed on picking on those who didn't fit in.  
Although she knew most of the other students that attended the school, most had moved up from the same primary school, it was clear that they didn't want any newcomers into their pre-formed groups. Over the next few weeks, Dean became more distant towards her, there were a few fleeting glances between the pair, some of which were pained with guilt from Dean, but slowly Martha began to resent him and his behaviour. Martha made it clear she had lost a massive amount of respect for the boy, and it clearly showed in her actions towards him around school, whenever he happened to walk her way, she simply turned around and walked the other way. It appeared that his new friends had brainwashed him, making him act like an ignorant, vain, bullish young man, who only cared about himself and those who followed in his and his friends reign.

Over the years, the relationship between the two became rocky, the families still continued to have each other for over for competitive game nights and meals, but it was never the same between the pair, however they attempted to keep up a happy demeanour with each other for the sake of their parents and siblings.  
Finally, it was their final year at Merry Ford, Martha could not be more excited to leave the school where the last five years of her life had been filled with hatred and loneliness. 

Martha and Dean had become increasingly distant the last few months, she had been studying furiously for her exams, most importantly the scholarship exam for White Ridge, she could only presume that Dean was doing the same, she'd had no idea of his academic progress recently, but she had a pretty good idea about it, he and his crew had been off campus more and more recently, proving they were all as bad as each other, and would probably never gain enough academic achievements to leave the town.

A few weeks later...

Today was results day; today was the day that Martha would find out whether or not she'd won one of the scholarships that would majorly improve her life. She had managed to get downstairs reasonably early for once in her life, her usually unruly coppery tresses, rather neatly styled, and her outfit unusually smart. She nervously munched through her thoroughly buttered piece of toast, and practically inhaled her glass of orange juice.  
She and her mother, quickly left the house and wandered through the familiar maze of housing estates, that lead to the school, in order to try and contain the nerves were escaping her. Within about ten minutes they had arrived at the reception of the school. She stood there for a few seconds, staring at the ground and tapping her shoes against the tarmac. Faintly through the glass doors, Martha could see glimpses of the inevitable piece of paper pinned to the noticeboard.  
"Ready?" her mother reassuringly asked her.

Martha gulped, looked her mother in the eyes and cautiously walked forward towards the doors that led to her impending education. Within a few steps along the carpeted floor, she had reached the piece of paper that loomed before her.  
She slowly looked up to read the names that were written on the pinned paper that loomed before her, her eyes slowly met the paper.  
It read,

"White Ridge Academy Scholarship Recipients"

"Martha Stevens", she breathed a sigh of relief. She had gained enough credits in order to pass. A wave of elation and relief flooded her body bringing a small smile to her upturned lips.

"And"

"Dean Matthews", she instantly felt a wave of sickness come over her and a plethora of questions, how had he passed the exam? and Who had even allowed him to take it in the first place? 

Martha looked back nervously at her mother, who was giving her a supportive thumbs up, whilst smiling.

Clearly Dean Matthews, was a lot smarter than he looked.

"Oh God, the next two years of my life are going to be a living nightmare", Martha thought to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been two hot long drawn out months. Summertime had for the most part been and gone. Martha in truth had expected it to be sixty days of insignificant activities. However, she had been pleasantly surprised with how much she had enjoyed most of the summer, despite living in the vicinity of Dean and his hooligans.

Much to her delight, Floyd had returned back to Merry Ford for the summer, and his presence had the wonderous ability to make her world a little bit sunnier. As a small slightly dysfunctional family they had relished in the warm lingering sun that shone in their back garden every evening; they ate, drank and played a relentless amount of card games, which somehow Lucy had a tendency to almost always win, when she seemingly had little to no idea how to properly play them.

They had taken many walks to and from the local pool, where they had fun for hours diving into the crystal-clear aquamarine and splashing one another. Enjoyed many a sun-soaked picnic in the park, complete with Georgie’s delicious sandwiches and desserts.  
But alas, all good things had to come to an end, later this week she’d be moving down to Cornwall into her new boarding school. Over the summer she had become increasingly excited at attending school in the ever-approaching autumn, partly due to Floyd’s enthusiasm and vivid descriptions of the building and atmosphere.  
The way the morning sun, illuminated the building almost every morning. The long-standing rivalry that stood between the two houses of the school, Byerd and Gilliflower and most of all the gorgeous cliffside swimming pool that was carved out of the local granite.

Martha had spent most of the last week, slowly but surely compiling her belongings into a couple of her mother’s worn tan suitcases which were covered in various tags, motifs and stickers from generations of family travel. After days of gradually packing her things that had modelled her life for the past seventeen years, she felt a strange sense of guilt and freedom, an odd combination to say the least. She felt in a way that she was abandoning her mother and Lucy, they had always been such a strong family unit, the three musketeers, the golden trio, she couldn’t leave them now, could she? They had been such a strong unit for so many years, it would be near impossible to fathom life without each other.

Lucy was in the most important part of her childhood, the years that would really shape her as a person, and Martha felt she couldn’t leave her at such an important time, she would miss the woman young Lucy would start to become. She’d miss the way the little girls’ forest green eyes lit up anytime they saw a cat out on a walk together, she’d miss the way Lucy always left just a small amount of ketchup smeared across her plate after almost every meal they ate.  
But most of all she’d miss the being in the presence of her own mother, Georgie Stevens. She had inspired her all her life, for she had always fought for what she believed in and did the best she could for her and her precious daughters, especially when their father had died at such a young age and at such an early point in his daughter’s lives.  
She remembered the days of tears and sorrow that followed his death, at the time, the Stevens’ women felt like they were trapped in a horrific nightmare, that, at one point they would just abruptly wake up from and could go back to being one big happy family.

Seven years earlier…

Martin Stevens had been a tall, kind man with a round face, tanned skin and deep chocolate brown eyes that hypnotised anyone who he made eye contact with. He had always adored his wife and daughters and it clearly reflected in every action he took, he made sure that his daughters had magical birthday parties, even though the family were marginally short on money. He’d spent hours after work for weeks leading up to their special days perfectly crafting personalised decorations, using whatever materials he could find. Over the years it was something the girls looked forward to, they could barely wait to see what their talented father had created especially for them.

As the years went by, it soon became clear that Martha had inherited her father’s talent for the creative arts, they spent many days and nights drawing, painting and building hundreds of different pieces that were displayed around the home. Although they had never been extremely well off, they often felt they were living a luxury life style, they almost lived in a state of ignorant bliss in a sense. In a way they had almost romanticised the middle-class lifestyle, but soon unbeknownst to them it was all about to come crashing down.

Martin had felt off last week, he’d been fatigued, when he normally was full of energy. He’d also lost a few pounds and experienced fevers and chills, but he had assumed it was just a heavy cold, but as usual Georgie being slightly paranoid convinced him otherwise; to go and see the doctor just to be safe.

A few days later, he had managed to secure an appointment at the local doctor’s surgery. He entered the building with an unusual sense of caution, something that he almost never experienced, he hadn’t felt threatened or anxious about anything significantly for years. He had an adoring wife, two gorgeous daughters, a solid job with reasonable wages and a roof over his head. It would be rude to ask for more.

Yet, somehow, he knew as he stepped into that doctor’s office that sunny Wednesday afternoon, that something momentous was about to happen in one way or another. The waiting room itself, wasn’t very comforting to patients, it had a distinct lack of décor, and the colour that lined the walls was foreboding in a sense. Dull pictures of bleak landscapes hung limply on the walls that surrounded him and the coffee table in the centre of the room was overflowing with old issues of magazines with tears and creases all over the covers, no doubt with half completed crosswords and sudokus inside. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, as he sat in the uncomfortable teal cushioned chairs that aligned the edge of the room.

Within a few minutes, an ear-piercing screech was heard in the room, signifying that the rusty old intercom, was about to come into action and announce a patient’s name. In response, to the noise, the creaking of chairs echoed formidably in the pale cream painted room, followed by the turning of everyone’s heads in the room, towards the red electronic illuminated message board that hung above the doors ,for they were cautiously waiting if their name would be read out next.

A wavering male voice rang out over the intercom.

“Mr. Martin Stevens to see Doctor Wadebridge in room fourteen”.

He sighed heavily as he stood up, and walked slowly towards the door his feet dragging a little on the dirty grey carpeted floor as he did so.

After many questions and tests, Doctor Wadebridge couldn’t distinguish a confirmed diagnosis, and suggested they take a blood sample just to be sure.

“Mr Stevens, unfortunately I can’t be sure of a diagnosis, do you mind if I take a take a blood sample and send it off to be tested?” he asked, whilst scribbling down a few notes on the papers that sat on his neatly organised desk.

Martin looked nervous, his face had turned white and his teeth sat clenched on his pale chapped lips. He swallowed, looking nervously around the tiny room, finally his wandering eyes met again with the doctor sat upright in an ebony office chair positioned behind his desk.

“No need to be worried, Mr Stevens, it’s just a precautionary test, that we do with a lot of patients just to eliminate other potential diagnosis”, he said confidently to reassure the worrisome man that sat before him.

His face regained a little colour in response to his statement, and a miniscule reassured smile appeared on his lips.

A few days later, seven years earlier…

It was the height of summer in mid-July and everything seemed perfectly normally in the Stevens household and in the quaint little town of Merry Ford. Martha and Lucy were playing with their fragile fairy figures that their grandparents had bought them back from their summer holiday and Martin and Georgie were happily embracing each other after an equally long and tiresome day at their jobs.

A few short hours later they all ate dinner together, shepherd’s pie; a favourite of Martin’s; sat at the clutter filled dining table overflowing with odd scraps of paper, random receipts and the occasional odd sock. It was always a minor chaotic mess in the house, but no one seemed to really mind, it was just the way it had always been, and in truth the girl’s parents had always secretly preferred it that way. They didn’t want their children to grow in a house that had no sense of creativity, and therefore a little bit of mess would never go a miss.

Whilst eating Martin often favoured to fill out the latest crossword, in the daily newspaper. He was often seen puzzling with a fork full of food in one hand and a pen in the other.

However, when Georgie looked up to lock eyes with her beloved husband, she was met with an unexpected surprise, he was sat there with tears streaming silently out of his eyes. His plate of food was barely touched and the newspaper had not been moved from the kitchen counter; when normally he’d be happily munching away whilst surveying the clues.

“Martin, whatever is the matter” she lovingly questioned, tears appearing in her own eyes as she did so.  
He stared blankly at her for a few seconds before he spoke, trying to form the words that were about to come out of his mouth.  
“I received a phone call earlier, from the doctor’s surgery” he stammered, tears now streaming faster out of his eyes, his cheeks now stained with tears and his eyes red.  
Martha, Lucy and Georgie looked worriedly at their father and husband at the opposite end of the dining table. None of the women at the table recognised the man sat before them, they had barely ever seen him cry, let alone have a complete seemingly unprovoked breakdown at the dinner table.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell you earlier Georgie” he said whilst glancing hopelessly between her and their two daughters.

Georgie stood up from her chair, and gradually approached her husband to embrace him. She gently grabbed his waist from behind and pulled him into a tight but compassionate hug, his tears falling on top of the auburn curls that fell gracefully from her head.

After what felt like years, Martin finally found the courage to speak again. His lips parted and the unforgettable words fell out that would be forever be engrained in all the women’s minds.

“It’s… it’s ... not good news…….”, he inhaled sharply, his breath raspy as he did so; he cautiously continued as his eyes gradually met Georgie’s reassuring orbs.

“I’ve got stage four leukaemia”, he barely managed to gasp out, tears flowing like a waterfall from his puffy crimson eyes.

For a few seconds, Georgie stood there unable to move, frozen in disbelief. Her feet firmly glued to the ground and her arms lifelessly hanging in their sockets like a zombie, hypnotised.

What had any of them done to deserve this?

Over the next few summer months, Martin’s health quickly went downhill, for the first few weeks after his diagnosis he desperately tried to live as normally as possible and attempted to forget he was ever ill to begin with. He spent precious time crafting with Martha, and playing dolls with Lucy. When the girls left for school and when he tucked them into bed at night, he made sure that he always gave them an extra tight embrace. He wanted to make sure his daughters remembered him in a positive manner; at such a young age, it was so unfair to place such a horrific burden on the pair of them. However, such a hardship was unavoidable, his poor innocent daughters would potentially continue their childhood without their much-adored father.

In the back of all their minds, they all had a miniscule inkling of hope that sat unaccompanied, and lonely. They wished that one day the inkling would grow and beacon of hope, that would help cure their father. But as the long weeks turned into even longer months, it became clear that he wasn’t getting any better.

Hope quickly transformed into desperation.

Martin began chemotherapy, in an attempt to try and curb the cancer that was spreading through his body. However, no matter what medication he took, it seemed that that the cancer was beating him in some kind of twisted race. Over the next few weeks, he only seemed to get worse, he looked more and more frail, so he was transferred to the local hospital, just on the outskirts of MerryFord. Georgie didn’t want their children to see her husband in such disrepair and pain; despite her concern, Martin was desperate for the girls to see him every day. So, every day after school they drove to visit their father. Despite his ever-failing health, he still managed to fill out the daily crossword in the newspaper, and had somehow managed to bribe a few of the nurses to obtain him some portions of shepherd’s pie.

Soon, the dreaded day had arrived, the girls knew it was inevitable, they were in their second lesson at school when they haunting phone call took place. The receptionist, Mrs Grandison, poked her head around the door to each of their respective classrooms. Her weak, semi supportive smile upon her lips as she spoke each of the girl’s names aloud.

They paced sluggishly towards the front office area where they met their mother. As they swung open the wooden door, they were greeted by an extremely comforting hug from their panicked mother, whose face was covered in salty tears. When they arrived at the hospital, it was clear that Martin didn’t have long left, his face was white, his eyes sunken and he had lost so much weight that a majority of his bones were visible though his pale frail skin. Georgie broke down into tears, almost immediately at the sight of her poor husband. She absolutely hated seeing him like this, the world was so unfair at times and Martin had unfortunately pulled the short straw.

As he sat there, slowly dying in the patterned linen sheets that surrounded him, he silently motioned for his family to come over and hold his bony outstretched hands one last time. Martha looked her farther directly in the eyes, a lone fell softly down her equally pale cheeks, she squeezed his hand as tight as her little body would let her, reassuring her father that she’d never forget him. Lucy sat tightly cuddled into her mother’s lap, covered by her mother’s curls and tears. As he breathed his last few breaths of air, and his heart rate slowed, signified by the beeps of clunky grey machines next to him, he managed to form one last loving smile upon his faded lips, something that the women held onto dearly over the coming years.

Even on his death bed, Martin had been smiling, wanting to reassure the women in his life, mostly his daughters that he was finally going to be at peace. 

Present Day...

And in that moment Martha, knew that the next few years of her life were going to be ok, she often reminded herself of her fathers’ courage even in the face of fear. He had never faulted from being himself, and she encouraged herself to do the same.

She admired his attitude and approach to life and committed herself to following in his footsteps, he was so inspiring and she promised herself, that at White Ridge Academy she would strive to be the best version of herself she could be, no matter the opposition she faced. She was determined to become a better version of herself, and start afresh.

She shut the lid of her suitcase, and surveyed the new found emptiness of her once full bedroom. She grabbed the worn brass handles, and swung the heavy case from off her bed; dragged it towards the open door and pulled it down the small windy staircase towards the front door, where her mother was waiting for her stood next to their rather beat up red Ford Mondeo, ready to take her to the train station to begin her journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter of my new book, White Ridge Academy! It's a pretty sad chapter, unfortunately, but I think its really important in the backstory of Martha. I promise that the next chapter will include Martha actually getting to the school, I just wanted to make sure I established a good background for my book.  
> Hope you enjoy, those of you who find my writing. Please feel free to add any advice, comments or ideas in the comments below, it would be much appreciated!  
> Many Thanks,  
> Nat


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha boards the train and meets some new and familiar faces, but are they all friendly?

About ten minutes of driving down familiar roads and lanes later, they arrived at the quaint train station, which was very much in need of immediate redecoration. Bottle green paint flaked from the cracked oak poles that held up the rather ornately carved canopy, that shaded the small concreted platform. Hanging baskets filled with pink and purple pansies swung delicately in the wind on slightly rusty hooks, accompanied by gentle creaks as they moved.

Soon, the familiar toot of a train whistle faintly filled the air in the distance, accompanied by a plume of cloud-like white smoke billowing above the tree tops. The ever-approaching train made Martha felt excited yet nervous, her hand tightly gripping the handle of the case so much that her knuckles had turned white. Her stomach completing several flips in her brief moment of panic. She took several deep breaths as she stood just behind the faded yellow line on the edge of the platform. Thoughts raced through her head, a mile a minute, and slowly her breaths returned to normally as she reassured herself that she’d have no problem adjusting to her new surroundings. In fact, it would be a most welcome change, well apart from the presence of Dean Matthews, but other than that, she would soon be far away from an equally loved and hated place in her heart. She tapped her tanned leather brogues on the rough concreted ground to steady the few remaining worries she had cobwebbed at the back of her head; her mustard shoelaces bounced slightly in the air as she did so.

Suddenly she felt a pair of supportive arms embrace her from behind; unmistakably belonging to her mother. Martha knew that she and Lucy would miss her dearly, but she also knew how greatly important this change of scenery would be for her. As she relished in the last hug from her mother she would receive for a while, she imagined the sun-soaked campus every morning as Floyd had described, the salt water pool that sat perched on the clifftops and the irreplaceable feeling of leaping off the jagged rocks in the little boat filled bay into the freezing Cornish sea below. A feeling of warmth overpowered her petite frame as her mother’s arms tightened around her, accompanied by the tiny arms of her younger sister Lucy wrap around her lower legs. An atmosphere of affection flowed over her body as she soaked in every last ounce of adoration from her family.

She felt the pairs of arms slowly release from her body, a small tear quickly appearing on her pink flushed cheeks as she looked down at the top of her sisters’ head, and gently thumbed the soft wispy copper tendrils with her damp; tear stained thumbs. A little red and blotchy face peered up at her, which was optimistically filled with lingering hope; as her own emerald eyes met her verdant pools, she felt the familiar tight, air squashing, yet loving embrace of Lucy, who's’ petite frame was once again tightly coiled around her calves, whilst sat on the grey ground. Her flushed rubicund lips quivering slightly as she struggled to speak.

“I’m going to miss you so much Martha” she silently sobbed, sniffling loudly in between every few words, whilst desperately grasping onto her sister, her fingernails delicately digging into the back of her thighs in the unyielding embrace. As she rather abruptly cleared her throat, she gently tucked the stray strands of auburn hair behind her ears that had escaped from the increasingly loose ponytail positioned at the base of her head, and sat on the ridge of her shoulders.

“You’ll be fine Lucy”, the young girl whispered, the words tentatively escaping her rose blushed lips, whilst her eyes darted wildly between Martha and their mother and a noticeable lump appearing in her throat.

“I promise, just think of all the games of Ludo you can force mum to play whilst I’m not at home”, Martha spoke as she softly wiped the remaining tears from Lucy’s pink cheeks, and tenderly pushed the residual stray hairs behind Lucy’s doll like ears, that sat on the edge of her soft porcelain jawline. A small smile appearing on her face as Martha spoke the latter part of the sentence.  
Lucy had a rather large adoration for the classic, usually forgotten board games. They played it every week, on Sunday evening after dinner, normally it was a few games, sometimes closer to ten.

It had been passed down from Georgie’s grandmother, Lucille, where Lucy had received her namesake from. When she was a young child, Georgie never really understood the excitement her grandmother gained from playing the simple game; yet whenever she went round to her house to visit, which was at least once a week, they always enjoyed a few games much to her grandmother’s delight.

As the enormous ebony painted train puffed into the seemingly microscopic station, it was accompanied by a loud squeaking of brakes, and gradually came to a standstill, waiting for its eager crowd of passengers to board.

For a couple moments she just stood there in awe of the monstrous yet beautiful machine that sat in front of her, making her feel increasingly smaller as her eyes wandered further and further down the tracks where the train seemed to go on forever; she couldn’t see the end carriage, not even if she squinted her eyes as far as they would humanly reach, in the blinding late summer sunshine. Each carriage had three large elm framed windows that were centre piece to the sleekly painted ink coloured carriages that were embellished by exquisite miniature golden roses and vines that grew around the panes. The engine was adorned with delicately painted gold and ruby outlines that made it gleam in the direct sunlight, and on the front was a large coal-coloured plate embossed with gilded golden letters that read ‘WCF’, to Martha in that moment it felt almost like she had stepped into a magical parallel dimension, the total opposite to the generic grey town she had known her entire life.

She sat the well-loved tawny case down onto the ground, closed her eyes, let her arms hang limply by her sides and let the warm summer breeze flow over her body. Martha slowly inhaled and exhaled one large elongated breath, in an effort to reassure herself and try to regain a small sense of confidence and composure. A few seconds later she gently opened her eyes and turned back around to face her mother and Lucy to embrace them both into one final hug. She spread her arms wide and enveloped them around her family, a single tear running down her slightly puffy pink cheeks as she did so.

“You’ll be just fine” she reassuringly said as her head rested into the crook of Martha’s shoulders, and her arms wrapped around her body squeezing her extra tight.  
Martha released her arms and then crouched down to Lucy’s height and picked her up and gave her one last almighty hug, her sisters coppery tresses equally as bouncy as her own as they skimmed over the edge of her little shoulders and around her neck.

“I love you” Lucy softly whispered to her, her petite hand cupped around her ear and her delicate eyelashes fluttering gently open and closed against the skin of her neck.  
Martha unravelled Lucy limbs from her body and placed her back down upon the ground, the sound of her shoes hitting the concrete echoing ever so slightly around the rather empty station.

She picked her suitcases up from the floor and grasped the handle even more tightly than before; wanting to preserve the huge amount of love and confidence her mother and Lucy had just expressed to her and place it within the case and lock it as tight as she possibly could so she could take it with her on the long and windy journey.

She quickly dug her ticket out of her left jacket pocket, which was marginally crumpled on a few of the corners, but was still legible and she held it tightly in her palm. She opened up her hand and cast her eyes upon the ticket that lay in her the centre of her hand indicating that her seat was F14. As she stepped forwards towards the train, one of the few guards opened one of the black boarding doors as she approached accompanied by a noisy squeak from the old brass hinges. The man was wearing a smart scarlet uniform alongside a conductor hat of the same colour, embellished with an auric trim along the tops of his shoulders, completed with golden engraved buttons that ran along the edge of his jacket. 

She stepped onto the engine, slowly walking down the carriages carefully passing by a couple of other people on the train until she found her seat, the heels of her brogues quietly clicking along the wooden boarded floor of the train. Martha carefully lifted both of her suitcases up above her head, and onto the luggage rack that hung down from the ceiling, doing so, she accidentally hit the edge of another case that was already sat up on the rack, making a reasonably loud thwack sound as they hit one another, a sense of guilt quickly overcoming her. She immediately looked around the carriage area, in an effort to find the owner of the case to make an apology; as she sat down onto the floral cushioned seats, she made direct eye contact with a raven haired steely eyed girl who was stood up talking to a small group of other girls at the other end of the carriage. Martha could only assume that the case belonged to her, due to the deathly glare she had received for her actions.  
She gulped nervously, whilst she sat softly swinging her legs and glanced between the mysterious girl and the window located to her left. As she sat silently and tried to reassure herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong and it was purely an accident, she suddenly felt warm breath on the back of her neck. She anxiously swallowed and cautiously turned her head to face the figure that loomed behind her.

“So, I’m guessing you must be new here, right?” the girl hissed, her top lip and left eyebrow raising marginally as she spoke. She stood with her legs partially crossed causing her body to lean slightly to one side, one of her black boot clad feet flat on the ground and the other tilted so the toe pointed the floor. Her eyes were covered in a thick layer of eyeliner and a heavy fringe fell to just over her long dark eyelashes and her lips were stained with a deep Tyrian purple.

“Ummmmm” was the only response Martha could muster in the moment of brief panic.

“Angelica Haert” she said bluntly, whilst forcing her hand out towards Martha, her bushy eyebrows forming into an angry triangle. On her hand she wore an intricately carved gold ring, which had three stars engraved into the centre, the two smaller outer stars had small shimmering diamonds in the core and the larger central star had a rather big sparkling ruby set in the middle. She stared at Martha’s hands that were sat awkwardly in her lap, pressuring the girl into an unwanted handshake.  
Martha lifted her right hand from her lap and limply placed it into Angelica’s confidently outstretched hand, she squeezed Martha’s hand tightly and shook it extremely egotistically with a chaotic smirk appearing on her purple lips as she did so. She gawked at her just long enough to somehow make the situation even more intimidating, her hypnotising glare indicating that she wanted Martha to answer her.

“Martha Stevens” she uttered her hand still awkwardly held in Angelica’s grasp.

“Look I’m sorry I hit your suitcase, I didn’t mean to, it was just an accident, I’m sure you can understand that” she somewhat stuttered.  
Angelica slowly released her hand from Martha’s, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she dragged her fingers out of Martha’s palm, inferring that her response had caused an element of frustration in Angelica’s mind.

“Fine…. I guess”, her mouth fractionally agape as she spoke causing the phrasing of her sentence to be particularly conniving towards Martha.

“Just to let you know, I’m pretty important around here, so it’s probably a good idea if you don’t piss me off” Angelica proclaimed as she pursed her lips. She quickly spun around so she was no longer facing Martha, her mid-length onyx hair flipping wildly over her shoulders as she turned, she paced back towards her friends who were stood at the other end of the carriage her chunky boots squeaking every couple of steps.

Martha was now left sitting alone in her seat, the three nearest seats surrounding her still vacant. She sat by herself for several minutes, letting her own thoughts consume her more than would have liked too, hoping that she wouldn’t run into Angelica very often.  
Why on earth was she so unnecessarily antagonistic towards her?

She decided to push the thought of Angelica and the anger she had created, to the back of her mind. She certainly wouldn’t let one mean girl ruin her experience at White Ridge.

Suddenly she heard a friendly sounding voice above her head, as she looked up her eyes were greeted by the sight of a girl with long golden curly hair with indigo streaks that framed her face complete with the edition of a few tiny braids. She was wearing a white and green tie-dyed t-shirt, a pair of brown corduroy flared trousers, a silver necklace in the shape of an origami bird hung from her neck, a pair of tiny silver hoops sat in her ears, a similar little hoop through her nose and a pair of sage green converse on her feet. 

“Hey there, I’m Lyla, Lyla St Claire” she said happily as she swung a navy coloured case up above her body and on to the luggage rack. 

She then promptly sat down on one of the seats opposite from Martha, a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Hi, I’m Martha Stevens” she quickly quipped back a little smile appearing on her lips in response to Lyla’s friendly nature.

“Are you excited for White Ridge?” she enquired.

“I’ve heard so many great things about it, my mother attended there in ’93 and she never shuts up about it, its where she met my father, it’s such a magical place”, she grinned.

“Yeah, I guess so, my cousin Floyd is in the year above and whenever we visit his family, he’s always talking about how amazing it is” she spoke looking partially crestfallen.

“Are you ok?” Lyla probed, sensing the tiny underlying upset undertone in her wavering voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine” she murmured, shrugging her shoulders a little as she spoke.

“I’m just a little upset” she said as she quickly looked in the direction of Angelica and her friends.

“That girl, over there with the dark hair, Angelica, got really angry at me for no reason, when I was struggling to put my cases up into the rack, I accidentally hit the her case, and she came over and intimidated me, all I wanted to do was apologise, I don’t want to make any enemies!” she stuttered slightly.

“Oh, don’t worry about her” reassured Lyla.

“At every school there’s always those kids who want to cause chaos and upset people whenever they go for no reason, clearly, she’s just trying to assert some sort of dominance over you, so she feels like she has some sort of strange upper hand when we arrive at school. You want my advice?” she queried.

“Trust me on this one, those sorts of people aren’t worth confronting, they’ll just intimidate you and twist your words, your best bet is to just ignore her, I haven’t even met her yet and I can tell that I’m already going to dislike her” she said in a hushed tone.

“Thanks Lyla, really” Martha said, her cheeks framing into a small grin, her pink lips marginally turning up at the corners.

“Fancy a game of cards?” she asked.

“Who knows. It might make you feel a bit better and it’s always a good way to pass the time”. Lyla said as she pulled out an old school style tawny leather satchel, unfastened the silver buckle and grabbed a deck of cards which were decorated with delicate illustrations of flora. 

Whilst she was dealing the cards onto the table, the intercom crackled and a distinguished voice spoke over the speaker system for the station, Martha’s ears pricking up at the high-pitched tone escaping into train.

“A final boarding call for the train to Penzance stopping at Truro, Redruth and St Erth, the only train with alternate transport connections to White Ridge Academy, reminder final boarding call for the train stopping to Penzance stopping at Truro, Redruth and St Erth the only train service with transport connections to White Ridge,” the wavering voice over the speaker crackled.

“Wait!” a familiar voice yelled.

“Please let me board the train”, the voice begged to one of the train guards.

The sound of squeaking hinges, followed by the sound of footsteps, indicating that the guard had reluctantly let the last-minute passenger board.

As the figure belonging to the mysterious voice stepped on to the train, Martha locked eyes them and immediately rolled her eyes in response to his identity. She sighed audibly, at the thought of Dean Matthews. She’d almost forgotten that with all the new drama that he’d be at the school as well. Great, another person to avoid alongside Angelica.

He strutted down the aisle towards Lyla and Martha, his face shaped into a rather obnoxious smirk. He stopped a few seats behind them and put his cream leather suitcase up on to the luggage rack, and then paced a couple of steps forwards so he was now facing both girls.

“Hey Martha”, he muttered, his eyes wandering around the carriage as he spoke. 

“Hi Dean” she said begrudgingly as he stood before her. She hadn’t been voluntarily this near to him in years, him and his friends were the total opposite of the people she’d want to hang around with.

In her opinion, he was wearing an egotistical outfit that was clearly aimed to impress potential new friends and make himself seem so much greater than he was in reality, rather than just wearing something he felt comfortable in. His floppy chestnut curls were swept back into an unusually tidy style, reminiscent of something a mother would do to her son’s hair when he attended his first school dance at a young age, in a desperate attempt to look smart. A navy and emerald striped t-shirt with the word “Dream” embroidered in rainbow thread in the centre hung loosely from his torso, which was partially covered by a very new looking black leather jacket, with various zips and pockets covering it. He had inky coloured jeans, that had been partially acid washed and a pair of dark purple converse on his pretentious feet.

“Let me guess” Martha gently grumbled; her face visibly upset in regard to the current situation.

“You’re sat next to me?” she unsurprisingly questioned.

“Yes……., unfortunately, and trust me I don’t want to be stuck sitting next to you for the entire journey, the feelings definetly mutual”, he stated as her sat down next to her.

“Well, for the first time in years we finally agree on something, …how much we despise each other”, she huffed, her arms crossed, turning her body to face out the window.

“So…, we still playing cards?” Lyla asked in an attempt to try and solve the increasingly uncomfortable situation. 

As she glanced out the window, she waved at her supportive mother and sister who were stood patiently on the platform, Georgie was holding Lucy under one arm, her little hands waving wilding and her mouth formed into a huge grin out of the excitement of seeing her sisters face in the crowded train. The sound of slamming doors, followed by a loud succession of toots and puffs of smoke from the front of the engine indicated that the train was almost ready to depart.  
As the wheels of the train started chugging, a rather deafening whistle bellowed out from multiple guard whistles, the wheels of the train ever so slightly starting to move. As they gradually departed the station, she heard a small excited voice cry out, even through all the noise.

“Bye Martha, you can do it!” Lucy yelled, her hands cupped around her mouth, causing the frown on her face to quickly change into a modest smile, Lucy’s voice and figure slowly moving out of view as the train began to gain speed.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Dean casually smirking at her. She quickly turned her head so she was facing the obnoxious boy.

“What?!” she bluntly questioned him, her eyebrows hunched and a few wrinkles appearing in the middle of her forehead.

“I’m not allowed to smile at my family, without being creeped on by you?” Martha complained.

“So…, err I’m guessing you two know each other?” Lyla inquired, whilst she motioned her fingers at the pair sat opposite her.

“Yes”, the pair said in unison, the same begrudging tone underlying in their voices, each of them angrily glancing at the other as they spoke.

“We live on the same street and we went to the same small school together” Dean rapidly rebutted. 

“Unfortunately, we’ve known one another basically our entire lives” Martha moaned. 

“No matter how hard I desperately try to avoid him, sadly he keeps just showing up” she continued.

“So, does she” Dean replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter of my new book project White Ridge Academy, I hope you enjoy :)


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